


With You It’s a Game

by turante



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turante/pseuds/turante
Summary: Sherlock chases Moriarty to the top of a building. Things are not as they seem.





	With You It’s a Game

**Author's Note:**

> Written as my entry for the Game is On lj community's April 2011 challenge, it's [#17](http://thegameison-sh.livejournal.com/34881.html).  
> Based on a visual prompt.

“I know you’re there, Moriarty,” Sherlock said, walking into the deserted building. He felt the other man’s presence around him like a familiar scent: he was close. Sherlock’s fingers closed on the familiar shape of his gun, he drew it and held it, feeling its reassuring weight in his hands.

A shadow passed across the sun and the room darkened for a second. There was no artificial lighting, only the sunlight coming from the window. The room smelled like damp earth and apples. The sun came back and felt warm on his cheek.

A noise to his right, Sherlock spun around and pointed his gun at the cat jumping down a stack of crates in the far corner. Just a false alarm.

Sherlock took a step forward, slowly making his way to the centre as his eyes adjusted to the penumbra inside. The shadows of the corners slowly cleared up and revealed abandoned objects, broken clutter and a few lonely cobwebs. 

There were traces on the floor, and recent too. Cat paws, footprints, a drag trail.

Sherlock followed the trail to the far end of the room to the other door. He put his hand to the doorknob and turned it, opening the door. He found himself back in the garden.

Still, silence, the only sound was the whooshing of wind, slapping branches and rustling of leaves.

Sherlock knew where to go now, he turned around and climbed up the fire escape ladder all the way to the roof.

\--------------

Finally, he was face to face with his nemesis, guns pointed at each other, each waiting for the other to make a mistake, to blink and leave an opening the other could exploit. They must have remained like that, staring at each other, frozen, for a few minutes.

“You won’t shoot. If you wanted to, you’d have already done it.”

“You underestimate me, Moriarty. I wouldn’t lose a minute of sleep over your death.”

“Bold words, but that’s all they are: mere words.”

The situation was at a stall, neither of them was willing to let go of their gun. 

Sherlock should have called the police.

Moriarty should have made a run for it.

“You could jump,” Sherlock started, looking at the end of the platform with the corner of his eyes. It wasn’t that high, they’d likely survive the jump, break something on landing though.

“You’d follow me,” Moriarty replied, with a smile devoid of humour.

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

A sudden pain struck Sherlock’s right arm, making him drop his gun. He turned, abruptly, and saw a girl about their age sitting in the tree beside the playground structure he and Moriarty were. She was holding a slingshot in her hands and was still aiming at him.

“I would suggest you don’t try to pick up the gun,” she said, smirk on her lips. “Looks like we got him this time, Jim.”

“Good shot!” Moriarty praised her, taking a step closer to Sherlock. “Do you surrender?”

“Yes,” Sherlock grunted, spreading his arms in defeat and letting Jim shoot a sticky arrow on his forehead, then he pretended to die.

Jim got climbed down the rope ladder to join his teammate. “I have a present for you,” he said to the girl, rummaging around his pocket in search of the right token.

“What is it?”

Jim handed her a little scarf like the one he was wearing, but in different colours. “My mum made it, so it’s obvious that we’re on the same team. That we’re friends.”

The girl put the scarf around her neck and smiled brightly at him. “I always want to be your friend. You can count on me to be your second in command,” she said earnestly as she saluted him, borrowing the phrase and gesture from her father.

“And I will always take care of you, Sabrina,” Jim promised, clasping her hand and looking around to see if anyone was watching. Although most girls sucked, she was alright, but if people saw he was holding the hand of a girl he would be in trouble.

Sabrina looked down at their clasped hands because it felt strange. His hand was sure and strong, and she’d never forget that Jim let her play like a boy with him and never said a bad thing about her being a girl. For a boy, Jim Moriarty wasn’t half bad, she decided.

As they left the playground Jim thought that for a girl Sabrina Moran was absolutely amazing.


End file.
